


so here is a riddle

by philthestone



Series: nursery 'verse [4]
Category: Star Wars Legends: New Republic Era - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Fluff, Gen, also jacen being the world's raddest older brother y/y, au for the eu, introducing trash ghost grandpa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 09:00:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3563858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philthestone/pseuds/philthestone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grandfather's never directly come out and said, <em>"I'm sorry,"</em> but Nik knows that he is, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so here is a riddle

**Author's Note:**

> yaaaay more nursery verse  
> I posted this one on tumblr a while back - it was a prompt I got from Seren, who gave me the character of Nik and the word "ow". In my own dreams, Anakin's ghost is a lot more present in the grandkids' lives than he is in the eu. That doesn't mean that he's _always_ there, mind you. But. Anyway. You'll see.
> 
> Oh, and, as usual, it's been edited a little in the transference from tumblr to here.
> 
> title from Disney (Alan Menken - TRY AND GUESS THE MOVIE, PEEPS). This is a disclaimer - nursery verse and some thoughts that follow are inspired by the lovely irnan
> 
> reviews are awesome big brothers

Anakin decides, roughly thirty standard seconds before his older brother prances into the room and flops down cheerily on the table beside him and scrubbing at the tear stains on his still-round cheeks with a grimy hand, trying to regulate his breathing:

Getting into trouble is _rotten_.

Well, he amends, watching as Jasa pokes at his puffy lip experimentally – getting into trouble in itself is mostly manageable.

It’s when your nerf-brained older siblings get into trouble on your _behalf_ that the lousiness really starts to set in.

“Jay’s getting chewed out by Master Tionne for mouthing off,” says Jacen, swinging his legs and slinging an arm around Nik’s shoulders. “But she’ll be here in half a sec. Say, did you see her black eye? That was _something._ ”

Nik glares at him.

Jasa grins back.

“You’re both dumb,” Nik says, and Jasa just shrugs, swings his legs some more. Typical; Nik pokes him, _hard_ , to get his undivided attention. “Hel _lo?_ Did you even hear me? You’re grounded! ‘Cause of me!”

“Conditionally,” says Jasa in a conspiratorial whisper, rubbing the spot on his arm where Nik’s finger jabbed him. “Master Tionne heard both sides of the story and said we could get off if we behaved ourselves for the next week.” He pauses, sighs and tugs disconsolately at the hem of his tunic. “Which means no exploring the forest, I guess. And I’d just found a new species of beetle, too.” But then he frowns slightly, suddenly, before Nik can get another word in, as though only just realizing something. “And it wasn’t ‘cause of you.”

“It was too! It was _about_ me.”

“Not the same thing, Nik.”

“Well it was _me_ he was saying those things –”

“Exactly,” says Jasa, his eyebrows suddenly dropping and his chin jutting out in a way that reminds Nik uncannily of Dad. “ _He_ was being a bantha-brained gurf, not you.”

“But –”

“C’mon, Nik, we’re not even in that much trouble.”

But enough is enough.

“ _Stars_ alive, Jasa!” (Feeling very proud of himself for utilizing one of Mom’s favorite exclamations.) “You hit Raynar! In the nose!”

“Actually,” says Jacen, “ _Jaya_ hit Raynar in the nose. I tried to hold her back and she elbowed me in the mouth. And then Raynar tried to hit Jaya, which is when _I_ hit him.”

“But you never hit anyone!” splutters Nik, waving his hands in front of him in demonstration of his frustration and wondering if the blow to the mouth weakened his brother’s abilities of comprehension. “You just – don’t! You’re _you!_ ”

“He was picking on you,” says Jasa stubbornly. “What’d you ‘spect us to do, huh?”

Nik feels his bottom lip tremble, angry tears welling up hot and unwanted in his eyes. He blinks furiously and clenches his fists into the fabric of his pants covering his thighs, takes a deep breath. He’s nine years old. He’s _not_ a baby. He can _handle_ this.

(Then again, “picking on you” is perhaps a gross understatement, and everything feels utterly miserable, and Jaya has a black eye.)

(But. Jasa does have a bit of a point.)

(What _did_ Anakin expect them to do?)

“If Jaya were here,” ploughs on Jasa, “she’d say that any gundark who decides to put down _our_ little brother _and_ grandfather in the same sentence deserves every single whack in the nose he gets. What does he know about anything, anyway? Lousy git.”

Nik drags his palm against his eye.

“Uncle Luke says mean thoughts’re a one-way ticket to a crashed speeder,” he manages, and tries desperately not to think about all the things that – about what –

 _Well_.

“Blaster bolts,” he hears Jasa say, scrunching up his nose in defeat. “You’re right.” A pause, and Nik’s sure Jasa’s frowning. “But what were we s’posed to do? He said –”

But he stops, because Nik’s screwed his eyes shut to forestall the inevitable second wave of tears. Jasa’s arm stiffens against his shoulders.

“’M okay,” mumbles Nik hastily, but his brother makes a sound that resembles something close to a growl at the back of his throat.

“He’s stupid, Nik. And _wrong._ ”

Nik tugs his shoulders forward and clenches his fingers more tightly into the fabric of his pants.

(And that’s obviously, _obviously_ true, because _duh_ , because Jasa’d know and who even _is_ Raynar, spouting dumb things like that, and Nik knows because Nik _knows_ him, even though in the Story he did lousy, no-good things. But he's not, anymore - not lousy, or no-good. He’s just him. And kind of weird, ‘cause, obviously, he’s not always solid. But he tells funny jokes and has the most _astral_ scar above his eye and sometimes he’ll be old but mostly he’s just younger than Uncle Luke and it’s not _fair_ because Nik and Jasa and Jaya and probably Uncle Luke and Mom and even Dad know this but. _But_.) 

( _The whole rest of the galaxy, it seems, doesn’t._ )

Nik’s almost happy, _almost happy_ , that he’s not shown up, this time, like he usually might have. Well, not usually - nothing's ever _usual_ with Grandfather. But this time it's _too unfair_ and it’s _not_ Nik’s fault, and he thinks, for the first time, that he really needs someone to blame.

“Hey,” says Jasa quietly, tugging softly on Anakin’s earlobe. “You okay?”

“N-no,” he manages, and he feels his shoulders be tugged in, feels his head bump against Jasa’s collarbone.

( _Hewasamonster_ and _Ibetyou’reamonstertoo_ and _freakmurderermachine_ and _hekilledpeople_ and _gethimgethimhe’sgonnahurtus_ , and he's being pushed back, roughly, so that he loses his footing and trips and falls on his back in the grass. The seat of his pants is still sore. It is the first time, ever, that this has happened to him, and there is nothing that he was less prepared for.)

“Don’t listen to ‘em, Nik. _Don’t_ , alright?”

( _Whisperwhisper_ go the voices at the back of his mind. _Whatifwhatifwhatif –_ )

“What if they’re right, Jasa?” It comes out small, smaller than he intended, and he’s mad at himself for sounding so scared but – but space it, he almost doesn’t know what to think.

(He wishes Mom was here, with her softsoft smiles like she knows something he doesn’t and the way her lips press against his forehead when he’s upset and how she can always make him feel better about most things. And even though Jasa and Jaya are the bestest brother and sister in the galaxy and Uncle Luke’s probably excusing himself from his class to come and see what the hulabaloo is about and even though Dad’d probably hug him real tight, tighter than _anything_ , and tell him the same thing Jasa’s saying, that he oughta tell everyone to space themselves – Mom’s just. _Mom._ )

(And she’d know what to say. She’d _know_ what to say, because she’s stopped getting the funny look on her face, when they bring Grandfather up, which means something Important and he’s not quite sure what it is – something good, he knows. But Mom’s off-planet, and everything’s just –)

“Well, they’re _not_ ,” declares his brother, flicking at a stray bit of gravel that’s embedded itself into the knee of his pants, no doubt a result of the scuffle on the Temple lawn. “They don’t know anything. You’re Nik, aren’t you? You’re _Anakin Solo_. You’re you. That’s it. You’re not anything else.”

“But –”

“But nothing,” says Jasa, the air of finality leaving no room for further protest, propping his chin on top of Nik’s head.

And then: “Say, Nik, your hair smells _awful_.”

“Shut up, Jasa.”

“It does though. I bet it’s ‘cause I dunked you in the pond yesterday and you still haven’t showered.”

“Have too.”

“Liar. You hate showers even more’n me and Jaya.”

Nik screws his eyes shut more tightly and shakes his head.

“I took a shower at the beginning of the week, Jasa.”

“That,” says Jasa, “is _completely gross_. I’m so proud.”

Unbidden, a giggle escapes from his mouth. And then another, and then –

“Ha! Score for me, stinker, I got a laugh out.”

Nik shakes his head and presses himself further into Jasa’s shoulder.

“Did not.”

“Did _too_.”

(It’s left unsaid: Mom and Dad aren’t stupid. They wouldn’t’ve given him Grandfather’s name if they weren’t sure, and Mom and Dad probably know loads more than Everyone Else, and in The Story everything turns out alright in the end and Uncle Luke says that it’s the choices people make that lead ‘em to crashing their speeders – _figuratively_ , and that’s a word Nik’s only just learned – and nothing anyone else before did can make you crash your speeder unless you let it.)

(‘Sides, just look at how the Farmboy handled the Evil Wizard. What've you got to say to _that_ , Raynar?)

Nik makes a sound that might be “fine,” and sticks his tongue out at his brother, slowly, feels his fingers untwist a little out of his pants. 

“Jasa?”

“Yeah?”

“What if I get mean thoughts when I’m big?”

“You’re already big.”

“Fine. When I’m bigger, then.”

“Huh,” says Jasa. “I dunno. You should ask Dad. He knows everything.”

“I thought Uncle Luke knew everything.”

“Well, duh,” says Jasa. “But Dad knows everything else. Ask both of them, just to make sure.”

“Okay,” says Nik, and scrubs at his cheeks again, to completely rid himself of any incriminating evidence, decides that he sorta-maybe feels better. And then:

“They don’t know him like we do, do they?”

Jasa hesitates, just barely – a little glitch in the waves of comfortfrustrationdetermination that Nik’s been getting from the Force. And then he lets out a big breath and kicks his legs out again, grins at Nik.

“Nah. But that’s alright. He’s our secret, isn’t he?”

Nik feels himself smile back, just a little. “Just us?”

“Just us and Jaya and Mom and Dad and Uncle Luke.”

“And maybe Aunt Mara,” Nik says, and Jasa makes a "hmm" noise.

“She might have to pass a Test,” he says solemnly, raising an eyebrow down at Nik.

Nik's grin gets bigger, just a little. “Oh, yeah.”

(No more than a fleeting presence, happywarmcomfort in the Force and a gentle touch to the forehead and once, one time, he stopped by their bed in the night and stayed up with them because Mom and Dad had to be away and it was only just recently but Jasa claimed It Meant Something, like how there are parts of the Story that are just so important that you can't help but remember them for _ever_.)

“And,” Jasa starts, in a whisper, but cuts off abruptly when the door to the room is thrown open and Jaya marches in, sporting a brilliant black eye and an even more brilliant smile.

“Only a week!” she announces proudly. “And then we’re off scot free!”

“That’s a week of no exploring,” points out Nik, feeling his little burst of I’m okay start to dwindle away again, but Jaya, her small frame doing nothing to diminish the way her presence takes up the whole room, makes a _tsk_ sound and perches herself firmly on Nik’s other side.

“That’s nothing. _No one_ hurts my little brother and gets away with it.”

“You’ve got bacta on your eyebrow,” Nik notices, trying not to think of how much the words had hurt, originally, and focusing on the warm feeling in his chest that blossoms at Jaya’s words as Jasa grins in a way that suggests he knows exactly what Jaya’s thinking.

(Which, of course, he does.)

“Oh, yeah,” says his sister, poking her eyebrow gingerly with one dirty finger. “It doesn’t hurt much, though.”

“I –”

But she cuts him off, crossing her arms and sticking her chin out, her braids – mostly tangled and somewhat muddy from her scuffle on the ground – coming undone the way they’ve been doing ever since she decided to chop off half of her hair with the old vibroblade they found stuck in Dad’s boot.

“Anakin Solo,” she says, in her most refined Mom Voice. “If you even _think_ about saying you’re sorry, I’ll knock _you_ in the nose, too.”

“Sorry,” he blurts out (and Jaya rolls her eyes as Jasa bursts out laughing), feels her reach out through the Force and it’s all warmsoft and the happy blanket that is his sister’s sense, brilliant greengold strands whirring and spinning and wrapping around him on instinct, protective and wonderful.

(Not as good as Mom’s, but _good_.)

“Mom won’t be happy about the black eye, though,” says Jasa, suddenly, as if reading Nik’s thoughts, too, and Jaya’s expression falters, one eye widening.

(In reality, Nik thinks, Mom will almost indisputably take Their Side, fiercely and without reserve. But. It _is_ a black eye.)

“Oh, _blaster bolts_.”

“It’s okay,” Nik tells her immediately, puffing out his chest and bumping her shoulder with his, earlier annoyance hurriedly shoved aside in wake of his sister’s possible demise. “ _I’ll_ defend you.”

“You can hide behind Chewie,” says Jasa cheerfully, picking off another bit of gravel from his pant leg. “He’s big enough to cover all of you, I think.”

“You think?” says Jaya, giggling, and Nik grins, too, as Jasa sticks his tongue out.

“Nerf,” he says, and Jaya makes a face at him. “Say,” she says, suddenly, trepidation at Mom’s Reaction all but forgotten as a grin, wide and crooked, splits her face in half. “Did ya see how big _Raynar’s_ black eye is?”

Anakin thinks that Jasa’s laugh is contagious, and he joins in, not even bothering to tug away when Jaya’s hand grabs his.

And he feels it, when something like a hand brushes away the stray bangs on his forehead, dry and warm and gentle, the sudden presence in the room that’s bordering on hesitant, like it’s not sure if it’s allowed to be sorry.

He remembers, _our secret,_ thinks that it _is_ allowed to be sorry, after all. And out of the very corner of his eye, he thinks he sees Grandfather grin.

**Author's Note:**

> Also raynar pls forgive me I'm sure you're not actually that much if a jerk but I needed a name *cartwheels away*


End file.
